


Last Dance

by Andromicat



Category: Purple Hyacinth (Webcomic)
Genre: Bittersweet, Dancing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Ok bye, have fun, inevitable death, kinda angsty, runaways - Freeform, why tf does everything i write turn into angst, wow this fic is actually kinda long, yeah I suck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:53:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23993338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andromicat/pseuds/Andromicat
Summary: Their past lives faded as the smoke did—it lingered, and it lingered, but when they looked far enough behind, it was gone. As if the pain, the conflict, the battle that they had fought for so long, was nothing. As if they left nothing behind, no traces of their past, everything forgotten as they—No. That was a lie. Especially for someone like her, someone who never let go, could never move on.
Relationships: Lauren Sinclair/Kieran White
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	Last Dance

**Author's Note:**

> This is kinda based on the idea that was brought up that Lune went on the run and escaped on a train? Idk? I don’t really remember haha  
> Thanks to [GingerBeer42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerBeer42) and pawketti (no ao3 smh) for beta-ing!

_ Clack, clack, clack. _

_ Clack, clack, clack. _

The train wound its way through countryside fields, its pace unrelenting, a trail of smoke drifting lazily in its wake. A silver-brown snake cutting through endless golden waves of grain bobbing in the dimming evening light, a fading path of foggy gray drifting in its wake, drifting like the life they were leaving behind. The life they were running from, the life they could never return to. 

Their past lives faded as the smoke did—it lingered, and it lingered, but when they looked far enough behind, it was gone. As if the pain, the conflict, the battle that they had fought for so long, was nothing. As if they left nothing behind, no traces of their past, everything forgotten as they—

No. That was a lie. Especially for someone like her, someone who never let go, could never move on.

_ Kym, Will—  _

She would never laugh at their banter again, never watch their joking animosity slowly shifting into something _more_ right before her eyes. Their blossoming relationship was forever frozen in her mind, like a frosted flower bud, never to bloom. She would never watch it grow. Like the smoke, they drifted further and further away with every passing moment, gone from her life, forever. _I may—no, I_ will _never see you again._

_ But it’s for the better that I don’t. The “greater good”.  _

_ I’m sorry. I’m sorry that this is the only way.  _

Lauren gazed emptily out the scratched window of the train car, silent, pensive as her golden eyes would suggest. There was nothing outside, really; it had been the same for hours—field after field of golden grain, flashes of green, the colorful splashes of wildflowers. Now the fields were dimming as the sunlight died, draping the fields in soft shadow, slowly lulling the world to sleep.

If she closed her eyes, lost herself to the rhythmic  _ clack _ ing, she could forget everything, if only for a moment. Suspended in the darkness of her mind, she could imagine that she was back at her home after a long day at work, her office and patrol—and her  _ friends— _ awaiting her again with the dawning of the next day. Back when her life was a simple, repetitive rhythm, unchanging from one day to the next. Nothing unpredictable. Kieran never happened, Lune never happened, they—

But her mind wandered too quickly from the mundane passings of her previous life, the scenes shifting to midnight chases and illicit interrogations, and she was swiftly brought back to reality. She was Lune.  _ They _ were Lune. They had succeeded, but at the cost of themselves, the semblances of the lives they’d had in the city. And now— 

_ Now, they were on the run. _

And who knew how much time they had left?

“Lost in thought again,  _ mon amour _ ?” A deep voice jolted her out of her thoughts, alerting her to her dark-haired partner—no, that word wasn’t  _ strong  _ enough, didn’t properly represent the  _ deepness _ of the bond they shared now, albeit they left it unsaid.  _ Companion? Confidante?  _ “I would love to watch your pretty pensive eyes all day, but we must remain vigilant.” 

She almost snorted. How typical of him. They were escaping from the clutches of the Phantom Scythe and royalty alike, likely hours from their inevitable deaths, yet he laughed it off with his usual smirk. As if he was confident they were going to escape, alive, at least for a while.

_ But they weren’t. _

Her head snapped up, and she shot him a glare, almost mechanically. Their banter was so routine that she barely spared a thought before the words flew out of her mouth. “You won’t need to be vigilant if I send a bullet through your skull.” 

She could feel the lack of bite in her retort. How shameful.

His smirk faltered, realizing something as he studied her pale, nearly ghostly face. Always too perceptive, wasn’t he? He must’ve detected her resignation in the dimness of her eyes. Her glare held no sting, no bite, only a quiet surrender to their fate. 

“Is that so, officer?” His icy stare pierced her now, studying her with a blazing intensity, reading her with such  _ ease. _ Too much ease for her own comfort.

“Yes,” She hated the curtness of her response, the glaring lack of her usual wit, too lost in her own melancholy to think of a proper retort. Maybe she wasn’t as willing to throw away her life as she’d thought she was when they’d started this mess.  _ We’ve succeeded, _ she told herself. The Leader was dead. The Phantom Scythe was in shambles. 

Wasn’t that what she wanted?

So she could exact her revenge against the people that ripped Dylan away? That the guilt—the neverending  _ pain _ —would finally leave her? So that she would finally have peace?

So…so why was she so  _ reluctant _ ? Deep in her heart, locked away in the depths of her soul—was that  _ fear?  _ Fear of what? 

That she would never— 

“You’re distracted again, officer.”

_ Shut up.  _ Her hand flew to her hip automatically, reaching for— _ oh _ . Her gun was gone, lost in the chaos as they’d fled the city. He’d lost his sword, too, somewhere in between the scuffles and their hasty retreat to the train station.

They were unarmed, powerless. If they were caught now, they were as good as dead.

_ I don’t want to die,  _ she realized. Something was chaining her to this earth,  _ begging  _ her to stay. A longing feeling, a desperate  _ want.  _

_ Who—? _

“We don’t have much longer to live, do we?” Her voice came out a shred more bitter than she had intended it to be, but it worked all the same. Kieran almost  _ flinched _ , the last traces of his smirk fading.  _ Ah. He  _ had _ realized, after all.  _ She should’ve known. “They’ll find us, no matter how far we run.”

_ We can run, but we can never hide for long enough.  _

“Maybe we  _ will _ be caught,”  _ He…he’s not lying.  _ They both knew, knew that they couldn’t run forever. Soon, the train would come to a stop in another city, another town. Soon, they would have to face the very people they were fleeing again.

“But that’s all the more reason to enjoy the time we have left.”

_ Oh? _

He leaned closer, and Lauren froze as his icy turquoise eyes met her piercing golden ones. Their silent exchange held oceans of words unsaid, seas of quiet emotion, so much in so little time—

“Well, Lauren,” he whispered, and she almost shivered at the soft intensity of his voice as he spoke her  _ name _ , a soft breath of wind against her ear. He was so  _ close,  _ his lips ghosting against her ear, the  _ clack _ ing of the train but a distant memory. “Would you care for one last dance?”

She didn’t know what possessed her. Someone else must’ve put the words in her mouth, breathed them out for her, because her response was a simple “But of course.”

Despite the muted  _ clacks, _ despite the rhythmic bumping against train rails, they stood, shoes tapping quietly against the wooden floor. An unsteady bow, an unsteady curtsy in response.

And they were off, somehow never falling, never even faltering despite the rickety train car. Bobbing to an invisible rhythm, an invisible song, perfectly in sync. Defying the jolts with trained grace and fluidity, spinning, twirling, dipping. 

Together, as one, their final refuge before everything went to hell.

A last dance.

**Author's Note:**

> Ay ay ay look it’s kindanotangstbutkindastillangst for once!! I can’t write this shit lmao  
> Fun fact: the alternative title for this is "lolwe'reabouttodiewemightaswelldanceinaricketytraincar". (don't ask)


End file.
